


The Solace in Slumber

by xeniaraven



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/pseuds/xeniaraven
Summary: "During it all, sleep had become restless and entirely unobtainable. Forget the long, grueling days of the battlefield where sleep wasn’t an option. Even the moments in his own chambers, tossing and turning, staring at Courscant’s ever-glowing city lights streaming solidly through his shades, he never found real rest. He knew it comforted his men, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka to see him dozed off aboard the Resolute, but if they saw him now, they would be far from at ease."Or: Anakin has a nightmare and Obi-Wan comforts him.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93





	The Solace in Slumber

**Author's Note:**

> Not me doing yet another thing about nightmares, comfort, and some splashes of Anakin's grief losing his mother. In all honesty, this was actually one of the first obikin things I ever wrote. And for months I've fiddled with it over and over again until now. It's been a nice little thing to tinker with and use as something to work through my own thoughts. I hope you enjoy. <3

Emotions hung heavy on Anakin, like a well-worn cloak he wasn’t sure he had acquired himself, but nevertheless, it sat upon his shoulders from a time before he knew. He’d stuff training and stories, finely timed jokes and well-intentioned jeers, between the fabric cloaked over his head and whispered over his back to distance them. But surely, there were some nights, mornings, and the occasional afternoon, where the cloak hung like wet fabric, clinging to every orifice of himself without a change of clothes in sight. 

Obi-Wan’s teachings in the back of his mind were always a comfort: to be mindful of his own thoughts, his emotions, but they still bled mercilessly away from him sometimes. The onset of the war and horrifying reality that was his mother’s death only exasperated it all. As if he couldn’t find the proper corners to wrangle himself out of them anymore, and maybe he was doomed to the occasional bursts of anger and pain. Maybe occasional was bound to become frequent. Permanent. 

But Obi-Wan had taught him well: to dispel his emotions out into the Force and to try and find comfort in the coming present. That no matter how hot his own supernova burned, there would always be those that witnessed it with admiration, and things that would be able to quell it in the moments he found himself almost unable to do so. Meditation was hard, but sparring, walking, or tinkering with droid parts were methodical: giving him a solid equation where he could let the tight twists of his mind unknot themselves. 

During it all, sleep had become restless and entirely unobtainable. Forget the long, grueling days of the battlefield where sleep wasn’t an option. Even the moments in his own chambers, tossing and turning, staring at Courscant’s ever-glowing city lights streaming solidly through his shades, he never found real rest. He knew it comforted his men, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka to see him dozed off aboard the Resolute, but if they saw him now, they would be far from at ease.

It was all flashes of red from the moment his mother died, painting every nightmare in a lifeless, deep red he knew far too well and wished would have never stained his own hands. He would awaken with a choked scream, mechno-hand near seconds from ripping the delicate sheets beneath him. He gasped as he tried to keep himself from waking the entirety of the temple with his Force presence seeping fear down the halls like a mist. 

The floor was one of his only solaces in those moments as he slithered down to it in hopes that the cool stone would remind him he was nowhere near that hot desert planet anymore. Obi-Wan made sure of that. Qui-Gon made sure of that. 

His mother made sure of that. 

Many nights he wished he was younger again, curled into Obi-Wan’s side and dreaming peacefully as the calming presence of his Master wrapped around him. Even now, he knew if his love would be here he’d be sleeping soundly and deeply, letting himself drift into the known presence of Obi-Wan. A soothing balm around all of Anakin’s rough edges. 

But with a war raging, and battalions to keep track of, Obi-Wan was often away. Tonight was no different than the countless fitful ones before. His same broken sobs dripped onto the cool floor in a puddle of uncategorized raw fear that somewhere along the way _ I messed up _ . He could pinpoint it, like a geolocator through his own mind of the moment he knew it had all gone wrong and could rewatch the holotape of his mind. But he’d never spoken to Obi-Wan about it. Always too ashamed to admit the truth about his mother: that he had touched the dark side. 

He was a failed Jedi. 

Many nights before, he had tried Obi-Wan’s advice of tea and meditation, a usual remedy for the man. But the tea Anakin made was always too bitter, and his focus always too short. Anakin simply figured that Obi-Wan was proud of Anakin’s removal of his attachment from his mother. But even that fact didn’t ring true to Anakin’s mind. His old Master would never wish for something so horrible as this on him. He wouldn’t… right? 

"I could have saved her," he mumbled to no one. "If the council would have let me go. Just check on her. I- I could've kept my promise."

The hope that the sun would rise in a few short hours and Obi-Wan would be back from his mission to Christophsis flickered dimly in his heart. A new day would begin where he could put on his robes and paint on the face of true Jedi that could pass for the next hours. He could find a distraction in pouring over battle plans that he knew still wouldn’t stick in his mind. 

But he always held on to the hope that Obi-Wan would be back. 

Obi-Wan would be there. 

A light rap against Anakin’s chamber door startled him as he stared doe-eyed at it through the dark.

“Anakin?” A familiar voice rang from the other side. “What’s happened?”

"I'm fine," he tried, but the words tasted dry and broken on his tongue.

"Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, his name sounding so much different in the second iteration of it. “You can’t lie to me that easy. I could feel your presence all the way from the landing platform.”

With a shaky wave of his hand Anakin unlocked the door, sliding it open with the Force to reveal a disheveled and distraught Obi-Wan in the doorway. Obi-Wan carefully pulled the hood of his robe down to settle against his shoulders: a familiar gesture Anakin knew all too well, even seeing just the outline of it, backlit from standing in the entryway.

Anakin sat up carefully, tugging at his own nightclothes in a desperate attempt to look put together. He knew it was a lost cause as his curls never did find a proper place on his head, and besides, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to make out much in the poorly illuminated room. 

“Another nightmare?” Obi-Wan asked as he settled onto the floor next to Anakin. “Have you talked to the healers like I said?”

“I don’t need healers,” Anakin argued. “Jedi Knights don’t get  _ nightmares _ .”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly as he knew it might pull Anakin out of his thoughts. He moved forward on the floor until his knees touched Anakin’s, sitting criss-cross in front of him like years prior in meditation sessions. 

“On the contrary,” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and comforting, like a familiar steering wheel of a ship speeder. “We all get nightmares. You know Master Yoda calls them visions, but, I will always tell you some are just dreams. Dreams come and go.”

Obi-Wan set his hands on his knees, palms up and looking toward Anakin for his approval. Anakin knew what he was asking, a simple request but one that seemed so horrifically grand at the moment.

“No,” Anakin backed away like a scared child. “We’re not meditating on it. Not walking through the dream together. You- you don’t understand. You can’t understand what- what it’s like on Tatooine. This isn’t something you can just meditate through.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started cautiously as he watched the man before him. “Dear one.”

“You had Master Qui-Gon to teach you. To- to guide you,” Anakin’s voice dropped off like a ravine as he turned his face away. “I promised her I’d come back.”

Obi-Wan reached out tentatively and placed his palm on Anakin’s cheek. It was still cold from outside. That or Anakin’s face was all too warm from his panic and pain. Obi-Wan gently pulled Anakin’s face back to look at him though Anakin refused to meet the crystal eyes that stared at him in worry in the dark. How could he look upon someone so kind? 

“You must know I love you dear one,” Obi-Wan whispered into the space between them, though his words felt like a yell meant to echo into the dark part of Anakin. “There’s no need to explain your sorrow to me. I have felt it sinking around you since Geonosis. It might have even been there since Tatooine.”

Anakin pushed his cheek into Obi-Wan’s palm more forcefully as the first drip of a tear slipped from his eyes and fell towards his hand. Obi-Wan brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and let the liquid collect on his hand as he refused to remove this pinpoint of touch from Anakin. Anakin ground himself in touch so often Obi-Wan wondered if it came from his mother: if she was this gentle with her hands as well. 

“I know about your mother,” Obi-Wan continued as Anakin’s head shot up out of his palm. “It’s written into the lines of your face and signature. I had hoped you would come to me of your own volition, but I know the difficulties of losing someone and still adhering to the Code. I know.”

“But, I touched the dark,” Anakin finally spoke as he tried to calm his ragged breathing into something more normal.

“So did I,” Obi-Wan admitted with a faint smile that disguised him well. “I was just a Padawan with Master Qui-Gon. But we are only human, Anakin. We all have our faults.”

Anakin felt the need for sleep slowly tugging at him as Obi-Wan’s presence wrapped around him and he calmed from his nightmare. His posture slouched more and more with each second, and Anakin’s cheek had found its way back against Obi-Wan’s palm. There would be no arguing tonight: verbally or mentally. Anakin couldn’t bring himself to throw a well-meaning jeer across the small gap between them. 

But he could find it in himself to lean forward and press his lips softly against Obi-Wan’s. 

They didn’t have time to just be. To kiss and be kissed. To love and be loved. And perhaps right now wasn’t the moment for it. But Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s thumb brushing against the side of his cheek and his fingers slipping back to brush against the curls just past his temple. The touch was the exact pinpoint of his mind at that moment, even if he knew that later his mind would drift back into the chaotic buzz of the Force that never left, and the rollercoaster of emotions he was still learning to contain. 

Right now, the softness of Obi-Wan’s lips against his, and the feeling of his love just beneath his fingertips was more than enough. 

As they separated, Anakin pushed that solitary stray strand of hair that always fell on Obi-Wan’s face back into its place. Then he pushed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s as they breathed with each other for a moment, sharing each other’s presence and warmth. 

“Come dear one,” Obi-Wan finally said with one final kiss to Anakin before helping him to his feet. “To bed.”

“Will you stay?” Anakin mumbled out as he slipped underneath the covers again. 

“For a while,” Obi-Wan sat on top of the covers with a holopad in hand. “But I have to work on my report for the Council in the morning. The mission went well if you’re wondering.”

Anakin let out a short laugh that Obi-Wan might have missed if it wasn’t for Anakin deciding to sleep practically on top of him. 

“Didn’t need me to save you, Master?” Anakin yawned as he mumbled his words. 

“Not this time,” Obi-Wan’s hand came to rest on Anakin’s head as he brushed his fingers through the mess of curls. “Hopefully not next time either. Get some sleep.”

Anakin might have said another quip, or he might have said goodnight, but Obi-Wan couldn’t understand the words that he breathed out against his robes. 

And Anakin didn’t hear his chamber doors open again that night. Nor did the warm weight of his former Master seem to leave the spot next to him on the bed. All he could hear was the thunk of a holopad sliding off the edge of the bed a few hours later and the shift of a familiar presence curling closer into him. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [ xeniaraven ](https://xeniaraven.tumblr.com).


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